From This Moment On: The Sullivans, Book 2 (Contemporary Romance) Read online

  The conversation with his mother made her feel almost as if she’d met him at some family gathering, rather than at a seedy club downtown.

  She watched him listen to whatever his mother was saying. A slight frown moved across his face before he said, “Yes, tonight. Before the party,” and then, “Don’t worry, I will. Good night.”

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Do you feel better now?”

  “Your mom seems really nice,” she said, rather than answer the question that suddenly seemed a thousand times more loaded than it had ten minutes ago, especially after the awkward phone call she’d just made to his mother. She shifted on the seat. Too late, she realized her short leather dress had ridden up nearly high enough to flash Marcus a big huge chunk of bare thigh.

  “She’s great,” he told her, even as his eyes moved to the skin he couldn’t possibly miss, then back up to her face.

  His jaw was tight, his expression full of desire...and something else she couldn’t quite decipher. It was, she finally decided, almost as if he was warring with himself over wanting her.

  Just as she was warring with herself over wanting him.

  The taxi driver interrupted them. “Are you going or not?”

  Marcus looked at her. “Nicola?”

  If he’d said her name differently, if there’d been any pressure, any demands behind it, she might still have said no and gotten the heck out of there.

  But his question was gentle enough to have her suddenly making up her mind. “I do feel better. Much better. I’m ready to go with you now.”

  He reached across her lap to close her door, then told the driver, “The Fairmont.”

  Her muscles instantly tensed again. Here she’d just convinced herself he wasn’t some creepy star-stalker. Had she been wrong? Did he know she was staying at the Fairmont?

  Obviously sensing her sudden discomfort, he turned to her and said in a low voice, “I don’t live in San Francisco. The Fairmont is the best hotel in town.”

  She nodded. “It is.”

  He gave her a strange look and she realized she’d almost given herself away. Marcus clearly had no idea who she was, didn’t know that no one had called her Nicola in half a decade at least. If they went to her hotel, he’d find out the truth as soon as they pulled up in front of the building.

  Trying to think quickly was difficult when sitting this close to him sent her synapses flying off in a billion different directions, but she finally managed to say, “Is there anywhere we could go that isn’t a hotel?”

  “Your place is off limits?”

  Again, she nodded, hoping he wasn’t going to ask her for an explanation. She didn’t want to outright lie to him, didn’t want to have to make up some excuse about roommates. She didn’t want to tell him she wasn’t from San Francisco, either.

  It was a heck of a position to be in, she suddenly realized. Here she was on the verge of taking off all her clothes with some total stranger, but she didn’t want him to actually learn anything about her apart from how she liked to be kissed. Sure, he’d find out soon enough. As soon as he went back to his home—wherever it was—he was bound to see her face on some magazine somewhere, probably next to his from whatever pictures had been taken of them at the club.

  But for one night she didn’t want to have to live up to being Nico.

  Instead, she wanted the chance to see what Nicola liked, what Nicola wanted, what Nicola desired. Then again, she supposed she already knew at least one answer to each of those questions.

  She liked, wanted, and desired Marcus.

  And now that she was this close to the promise of real pleasure with him, she couldn’t stand the thought of losing that chance.

  As soon as she confirmed her place wasn’t an option, he pulled his phone back out and texted something to someone. When it beeped in response a few seconds later, he gave the driver a street address. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that he had a friend in the area with a place they could use.

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.” She’d always been a tactile person and without thinking, she put her hand on his arm to emphasize her words. His hard—and big!—biceps twitched beneath her fingertips and she jumped. But before she could pull away, he covered her hand with his.

  Oh God, what was she doing? What made her think she could actually do this? What made her think she could go home with a total stranger?

  Maybe if she’d had more experience with men she could have rolled with it better. But she couldn’t even handle touching his arm, for God’s sake! How was she possibly going to deal with seeing him naked?

  Or touching him in other, much more intimate places?

  Nicola belatedly realized Marcus was lightly stroking her hand with his fingers, as if she was a wild animal that needed to be calmed before it bolted. After only a handshake, and now this gentle caressing, she wasn’t sure he could ever touch her in a way that didn’t send her cells into Jell-O overdrive. And yet, at the same time, his gentle caresses were incredibly soothing.

  Each stroke of his fingers over hers seemed to say, I understand that you’re nervous and that’s okay. I’m going to take good care of you tonight. Just as I didn’t rush you to make a decision to leave with me in the cab, I’m not going to rush you into anything you’re not ready for in bed, either.

  Slowly relaxing again, she let herself scoot a little closer to him, close enough that it was pure instinct to lean her head against his broad shoulder. This time, she felt him tense beneath her touch. But before she could freak out about doing the wrong thing, he was wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in tighter.

  Her body wanted to be close to his so badly that without any conscious thought or planning, she found herself turning so that her cheek was laid against his chest, the steady beat of his heart sounding against her ear. Nicola found herself smiling against his chest at the intimacy inherent in the way he’d pulled her closer on a groan of obvious need.

  Intimate. Why did she keep thinking that word?

  He was a stranger. This was going to be a night full of fun, hot sex. Nothing more.

  A part of her wanted to ask him about his mother, to find out how many siblings he had, but she knew better, knew she had to tamp down that desire. Tonight was about a physical hookup. Not an emotional one. Hopefully, if things went really well, she’d finally experience the hot sex she’d never had before. Besides, if she sat here and quizzed him on his family, all the sizzle was bound to go out of their initial connection.

  As the driver slowly wound through city traffic toward the address Marcus had given, Nicola silently counseled herself to remember to keep her boundaries in place during the next few hours. No matter how good sex with Marcus ended up being—and she could already tell just from the way he held her in his arms in the back of the cab that it had the potential to be great—she couldn’t make the mistake of connecting pleasure with love.

  She didn’t know Marcus. He didn’t know her. As long as they made sure to keep things totally on the surface and all about pleasure, one night shouldn’t affect their futures.

  Only, the truth she didn’t want to admit was that she already felt affected, simply by how good, how warm, how safe, she felt in the circle of his arms.

  What, she found herself wondering, would it be like to have a man in my life who would be there to hold me like this every night?

  Chapter Three

  Nicola slipped into sleep, her breathing going slow and even, her previously tense muscles loosening against his.

  Sweet.

  God, she was so sweet, from the surprise in her big blue eyes when she realized she’d called his mother, to the fresh scent of strawberries in her hair, to her soft curves in his arms.

  And now, she’d—very unexpectedly—fallen asleep in a complete stranger’s arms.

  Whatever his mother had said to Nicola must have really relaxed her, to the point that she would let down her guard this much. And the truth was that he could
take her anywhere right now, could have her bound up and gagged before she could wake up enough to fight him.

  The thought of that happening to her—the thought of what kind of guy she could have gone home with—had his heart pounding hard in his chest and his hand moving to stroke her hair again. More to soothe himself than her, this time.

  She made a soft sound in her sleep, burrowing in closer to him like a kitten in search of warmth.

  He couldn’t help but be struck by the fact that nothing about his day had gone as planned, including this. They should have been checking into a hotel by now, getting ready to strip off each other’s clothes and fuck for hours. Instead, they were pulling up in front of his brother Smith’s house in San Francisco and he was putting his finger to his lips as he paid the taxi driver, to let him know not to wake Sleeping Beauty.

  As gently as he could, he lifted Nicola into his arms and out of the vehicle. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to come awake. Looking down at her, he finally noticed the dark smudges beneath her long eyelashes. The club had been too dark for him to see the evidence of her exhaustion, but now he couldn’t deny that as much as a part of him wanted to wake her up to make good on the implied promise of hot sex that they’d made to each other in the club, he could see how desperately she needed this sleep.

  “Shhh.” He couldn’t resist pressing his lips to her forehead and kissing her lightly. “You’re safe with me, Nicola.”

  Her eyelids opened then, her pretty blue eyes fuzzy with sleep, as she softly said, “I know."

  Her full lips that he’d been aching to kiss since the moment she’d walked up to him in the club and introduced herself moved up into a little smile before her eyes closed again.

  Almost to the front door, Marcus had to stop and regain his bearings to keep from stumbling with her in his arms. Not because Nicola was the least bit heavy. For all her gorgeous curves, she was a tiny thing.

  It was the trust in her eyes that had his knees weakening.

  Jesus, the things he’d been planning to do with her tonight…

  Guilt knocked straight into his gut as his previous visions of stripping her out of her dress came at him. Hell, he was still having those visions—visions that were far more explicit now that he was actually holding her and breathing in her scent.

  Fuck.

  A stranger wasn’t supposed to affect him like this. A stranger wasn’t supposed to fall asleep in his arms. A stranger wasn’t supposed to trust him with anything more than her body, her pleasure.

  Since the age of fourteen, after his father had died, Marcus had been the one everyone could count on. He’d known his mother couldn’t do it on her own and, overnight, he’d assumed the role of the man of the house for his seven younger siblings. Sure, he’d had his fair share of women until he’d met Jill. He’d thought Jill liked his family and that she understood how much they still needed him. Instead, she’d been threatened by his connection to them.

  How had he not seen that before?

  In any case, tonight was supposed to be his night to cut loose. To shake off those trappings of responsibility. Look where he’d ended up, instead, with the responsibility of protecting a young beauty for a night from his own dangerous desires.

  He stared down at the woman in his arms. Awake, her charisma, her strength of will and purpose, had been breathtaking. Asleep, he could only see sweet vulnerability.

  Damn it, regardless of his original intentions, hers was a vulnerability he now had no intention of taking advantage of.

  Finally climbing the last steps to the front door, Marcus unlocked it and stepped inside. His movie-star brother had a whole host of houses around the world, not so much because he wanted to show everyone how rich and important he was, but because he liked to feel at home when he was filming his movies. Considering he’d shot several in Los Angeles, New York, and San Francisco during the past few years, it made sense for him to buy a place in each city.

  Marcus had never called in a favor like this from Smith. Not because his brother would care. The truth was, Smith would love for one—or more—of his siblings to stay in his mansion high on the hill, but all of them had enough pride to want to earn their own way. Even if it meant his little sister, Sophie, was living in a tiny apartment in a not-so-great part of town on her librarian’s salary. Marcus couldn’t keep up with the number of times Smith had tried to get their sister to move into his place. But she’d been firm in saying no.

  After the text he’d sent Smith a few minutes ago—I need to use your place tonight—Marcus knew he’d be hearing from his brother to get the dirt on why.

  And who.

  Stepping past the foyer, Marcus looked over at the stairway leading up to the bedrooms, but somehow it didn’t feel right to take Nicola up there. A bed would be too intimate and he didn’t want her to wake up in the middle of the night and assume that something had happened between them.

  Fortunately, Smith’s couches were as plush and comfortable as they came. Moving into the living room, Marcus laid Nicola down on the long couch and slipped off her high heels and the little purse she had wrapped around her wrist.

  Even in her sleep, she seemed reluctant to let go of him and he found himself kneeling with her so that she could lie down and still have her arms around his shoulders. She sighed with pleasure as she immediately curled up into a ball on her side, her face toward his, her full lips turning up slightly at the corners.

  What would it be like to kiss that mouth?

  Marcus had to work like hell to shove the thought away.

  Those plans, those fantasies, were gone now. He was now on tap for a quiet evening watching over a beautiful girl whose scent and soft curves he wouldn’t be able to forget for a very long time.

  He covered her with a blanket that was thrown over the couch, then looked around for a pillow, but there were none. He could go upstairs to get one off a bed, but considering the way her hand had sought out his, he had a feeling she might wake up if he moved completely away.

  Not letting himself overthink it, he moved so that he was sitting on the couch by her head and shifted her so that his legs became her pillow. She seemed unsettled again for a moment, her free hand pressing against his leg as she clearly wondered why her pillow was so hard.

  Without thinking, he captured that hand with his free one. She immediately settled into him, curling into an even tighter ball on the couch beneath the thick blanket, reminding him again of the wild kittens that he often found sleeping in patches of sun at his winery.

  He wanted her so badly that it was difficult to relax at first. Every breath she took stoked his libido higher as her head shifted on his lap over his pounding erection. He was glad she was so soundly asleep, otherwise she’d realize that his thigh muscles weren’t the only hard thing she was lying on.

  Calling on his steel will that had rarely, if ever, let him down, he forced himself to move his gaze away from her to the huge living room windows that overlooked the lights of San Francisco and the bay.

  Marcus had been in other actors’ houses over the years and he was always struck by how many pictures—and even paintings—they had of themselves. Almost as if they were afraid to ever let anyone, including themselves, look away from the face that had made them famous, just in case it was forgotten. Smith was the exact opposite. Not only were there no photos of him, there were no personal photos anywhere in the house.

  None of the Sullivans spent much time in front of the mirror. Not even his sisters, except Lori when she was working. Her job as a choreographer meant she needed to keep a careful eye on her lines, her movements, her expressions as she danced. And even though Marcus’s mother had been a model when she was younger, he couldn’t remember her ever wasting much time with makeup or hair. Raising eight kids would make it pretty damn hard for anyone to find the time to primp and be vain.

  In any case, Marcus wasn’t particularly interested in any changes Smith had made to his part-time home. Not when it already felt like he’d t
aken too much time away from Nicola.

  His chest tightened again as he looked down at her pretty profile. Recognition tried to jog in his mind. He’d been so struck by his attraction to her right from that first glance that he hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

  But now, as he got the chance to simply stare at her, he found himself wondering if he’d seen her somewhere before.

  No, he decided a moment later. It was impossible.

  Nicola wasn’t a woman he could ever have forgotten.

  He stared down at her for a long while, memorizing the curve of her cheekbones, the sweep of her eyelashes, the way her eyebrows arched and peaked, her slightly pointed chin that fit her so perfectly, the sweet curve of one ear.

  The soft hairs at her hairline were several shades lighter than her current hair color and he wondered why she felt she had to change anything about herself when she was already perfect. One day, he found himself thinking, he’d like to see what she looked like with her natural hair color.

  What was he thinking? He wasn’t going to see her again after tonight.

  His thoughts cycled back to his ex-girlfriend, to how furious he’d been to find Jill with Rocco. Then again, if he was being honest with himself, he’d been angry and frustrated for longer than that. For weeks, months, as Jill made more and more excuses for why she wasn’t ready to get engaged, as she cancelled one weekend together after another, as she committed to seeing his family at various events and then backed out at the last minute.

  He’d assumed he’d be furious at Jill all night long. But since meeting Nicola, he hadn’t thought about Jill once until now. And, amazingly, with Nicola sleeping on his lap and her hands in his, Marcus’s anger was on a slow simmer rather than a rolling boil.

  Sex was supposed to be his medicine tonight, not a soft little purring kitten named Nicola.

  And yet, instead of being even more frustrated by the turn his evening of mindless sex had taken, a smile was on his face as he leaned back against the couch, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

  Chapter Four